The Game
by IrkenIckyChips
Summary: (previously known as Dib's Legacy on Gir's board) To Gaz, everything is a game. You press a button, and the hero jumps or shoots fireballs at slimy green monsters. But what happens when the game is lost and the hero doesn't make it?


By: IrkenIckyChips  
  
I'm reprinting this here for the benefit of the indigenous lifeforms that inhabit this site! This fanfic was inspired by the short story "Dib's pain" by ParanormalPhreak@aol.com. It WAS found on Gir.n3.net, and was very good, despite being extremely dramatic. Not that my stuff is free from it's share of melodrama. Peh.  
  
Oh, neither one of us owns these characters. Duh.  
  
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The kitchen door slammed open with a force that knocked a hole in the adjacent wall. Gaz slowly stepped in. Her eyes were to the floor, and her hands were limp at her sides, but her clutched her GameSlave2 with a force that nearly cracked the plastic. Her eyes were swollen and red--It was obvious she'd been crying.  
  
"I don't care what projects we're getting funds for! I want you to start work on this virus!" Shouted Professor Membrane to the microphone in his data-watch. He slammed the door to the odd-shaped mock hovercar that was the MembraneMobile. The round-faced scientist on the tiny screen on the Professor's wrist mouthed a reply to his uncharacteristic shouts, but the words were muffled by his earpiece.   
  
Without saying a word to her dad, who had just driven her home from the hospital, Gaz stiffly walked upstairs and closed the door behind her.  
  
The Professor walked through the garage and followed her through the open kitchen door. "…I know that! …I know that!! Look, that's beside the point. My son or no, we still have a very nasty contagion on our hands!" More mousy gibberish came from his earpiece. The Professor stopped in mid-stride. "Unprofessional?! Let's see YOUR only son wasted away and rendered comatose within 24 hours, and see how professionally you can act!" More whispering from his earpiece. "… …You want to see more children end up like him!? … …Then GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GET SOME LABWORK DONE!!" *beep* His watch cheerfully responded as he stabbed the OFF button with his gloved finger. As though suddenly laden with a two-hundred pound weight, the Professor groaned and stumbled to the upholstered crescent-shaped booth that served as a kitchen table. Sitting down, he hid his head in his hands, and heaved a shaking sigh.   
  
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Frantically pressing buttons on her GameSlave, Gaz tried to drown out the rambling and yelling of the other children in the Skool lunchroom. Finishing off a particularly nasty level boss, she allowed herself a look up from her untouched food and her game. No one else was sitting at her table. She shifted her gaze between the other tables, spying other kids whispering and pointing to her. Oh, they knew all right. Practically the whole damn skool knew. The entire day, no one had come up with so much as an 'I hope your brother's all right.' And why should they? No one cared about Dib when he was healthy. Why should they care now? They may even be glad the 'creepy UFO kid' wasn't here today. Gaz winced as though her own sarcasm and the negligence of her fellow classmates physically hurt her, and, blinking back fresh tears, proceeded to lose the next level because of her blurry vision.   
  
Just last Friday, Dib was fine. He had been sitting right next to her, babbling on about Zim and aliens and other stupid stuff. She remembered punching him in the arm hard when he wouldn't shut up. "If I hear you say one more word about Zim, you'll get more than just a bruise on your arm." She had threatened, and then had turned back to Vampire Piggy Hunter without missing a beat.  
  
Rubbing his arm spitefully, Dib finally shut up, but he wasn't happy about it. He wandered away to find someone else to bug.   
  
Gaz hadn't thought anything of it until after Skool was out. Rounding the corner of the building on her way home, she was greeted by an unpleasant screeching voice.  
  
"Eeeurgh! You miserable spiky-haired chemical sac! I figured after such discouragement from your fellow nematode skoolmates, I'd eventually be left in peace!" It didn't take anyone long to recognize Zim's voice. The way he screamed everything at the top of his lungs had cost Gaz more than her share of gaming mishaps, and this time was no exception. She glared up from her lost game. He and Dib were having yet another unprovoked spat in the parking lot.  
  
"There'll be no peace for you, Zim, as long as I'm around!" Dib answered, pointing at Zim. "Eventually, I'll make them believe. Not that I'm worried." He added with a smirk. "If you're so incompetent that a ten-year-old can foil your plans, just imagine what'll happen when I get help. It's only a matter of time, Zim. You'd best accept your fate!"  
  
The look from Zim could split concrete. "Incompetent!?" He seethed. "I'll get you for that, Dib! No one calls Zim incompetent! NO ONE!!"  
  
"You're talking about yourself in third person again." Dib said coolly. "Here's a tip. That's not considered normal on Earth."  
  
"Oooo, you'll pay, earth monkey. You're right about one thing; It'll only be a matter of time. But you'll be the one who's on the autopsy table. Mark my words."  
  
"What?" Dib boggled at this. Zim just turned around and walked away.  
  
"Hey, Gaz-beast…"  
  
Broken from her memory, Gaz whipped around in surprise. Zim stood there. Trying to salvage her demeanor, she slapped on an irritated sneer and turned back to her video game.  
  
"What do you want, Zim? And make it quick…"  
  
"I was merely going to ask where Dib would be. Since you are his hatchmate, I figure you would know…"  
  
Gaz paused her game. "…He came down with a sudden bout of pneumonia, or something. He'll be all right in a couple of days…" She said quickly, as though reading from a script. Zim's expression seemed to sharpen at her reply. It wasn't so much as a change in his mood, more like a look that said his suspicions had been confirmed. Either that, or he was trying to hide a smile. She really didn't care which. She went back to her game, and made no more acknowledgement that he was there.  
  
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Gaz slammed the kitchen door open again. Trying to stay as deeply buried in the zone as possible, she never even looked up from her game as she moved to the living room and sat down. It was only after she had settled on the couch and paused her game that she reached for the remote and pointed it to turn the TV on.  
  
"Incoming Message." Chimed an electronically-spawned female voice from out of nowhere.   
  
Gaz growled. "Who is it?!" She yelled. There were phones, screens, and speakers all over the house, all of which were wired to a single phone jack. She had no idea how it all worked, but it was a bitch to get any privacy in the house. One of the hover screens silently turned a corner and stopped in front of her. Her father was staring from the other side. "Gaz…"  
  
"Dad." She blinked, jumping off the couch and approaching the screen. "Is everything okay? Have you seen Dib?"  
  
A nurse passed the Professor in the background. "Gaz, you need to get to the hospital NOW. Take the teleporter in the garage."   
  
Gaz had already spent hours in the hospital waiting room. She idly wondered if the uncomfortable chairs and bad décor along with the fragranced chemical smell were designed to keep unwanted guests out so they would take their grief elsewhere. She had teleported in, just like Membrane told her to. Fortunately, before he left the teleporter project to collect dust, her dad had managed to create a (somewhat) portable version, which he lugged along with him to the hospital. The receptionist seemed shocked to see it actually work. "C-can I help you, miss?"  
  
"Yeah. My dad probably said I'd show up."  
  
"Your dad? Oh, you mean the Professor. Yes, he just went inside. Have a seat, I'm sure he'll be out in no time." As Gaz turned away, she remembered the receptionist calling behind her. "By the way, I love your dad's show. It's so cute!"  
  
Cute. That's one she hadn't heard before.  
  
Her entertainment with the TV that was precariously suspended from the ceiling didn't last long. Luckily, her GameSlave had fresh batteries in it. She must've played it for three hours or so before anything happened. She heard the Professor's voice once in passing. He was going on about viral classification, or something. Gaz had figured that was where he was. Right there with the doctors and nurses, trying to figure out what was wrong with his son. He had to do something; It'd tear him apart if he weren't able to. That was just the way he was. Gaz wondered idly if she could be doing something to help, and then tried to stem the quickly-rising feeling of inadequacy by concentrating on her game.   
  
About an hour later, the Professor appeared through the two massive metal swinging doors behind the receptionist's counter. He wiped his brow and started to glance around the waiting room. "Gaz?"  
  
"I'm right here, dad." Gaz had called from her seat in the corner. She jumped down and met him halfway. "What's going on? I've been here forever…"  
  
Her gripe was cut short when her father stooped down and took her into his arms. She was too surprised to respond. His arms were heavy around her; It almost felt as if she were holding him up. "We can't break the fever. We don't even know what's causing it, and he's getting worse by the hour. Nothing's working, Gaz. Your brother…" Her father started, then just hugged Gaz all the more tightly. They stayed like that for a long time.   
  
"…What's going to happen to him, dad?" Gaz said finally.  
  
Before he could even respond, a small alarm went off behind the swinging doors to the hospital wing. What caught their attention was the running and yelling of the nurses and interns towards it. "Code, Room 124!" "He's flatlining!"  
  
"Oh, God! That's Dib's room!" The Professor gasped, then sprinted though the massive doors again.  
  
No matter how bad it got, the receptionist would not let her past the doors to the hospital wing. She had to stand there, listening. They managed to bring her brother back, twice. The second time, Gaz caught a glimpse through the swinging door of a pallid, twig-like arm with an IV unit, being twisted around for another injection. She began to tear up, and instinctively reached for her GameSlave, in an attempt to drown it out. She then realized that she'd left it on the chair in the corner. She crawled back onto the chair, grabbed it, and quietly started to cry. Her game never left the title screen.  
  
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The sun was just starting to come up over the city skyline. Gaz stared out through the tinted glass of the MembraneMobile. She wasn't staring at anything in particular. At this point, she was so tired she couldn't even spare the concentration to play her GameSlave, which lay next to her in the passenger seat. The red disc just starting to peek over the silhouetted buildings gave her an excuse to stare, so she did. Her father silently continued to drive.  
  
What should I say? Gaz thought. What do you say after a night like this one? Anyone else would be talking to their father, asking if he's alright, or at least bawling their eyes out. No more tears were coming to her though, thank God. She had run dry hours ago. No words could match the way she felt, either. The best she could do was sit there and wearily allow the sounds over the past few hours to replay themselves in her head. The shrill beep of the cardiac alarm. The controlled panic of the nurses. The doctor barking orders. Her father pleading with Dib to keep fighting. It's funny how quiet it got afterward, she mused. No yelling, no clamor. Just that damned alarm.  
  
"…How about some music, eh?" The Professor glanced at Gaz, who turned from the car window to look back at him. He didn't look right with all those lines on his face. Before she could answer, he reached over and poked one of the radio buttons.  
  
"SHHHHH--So, what first drew you towards the study of extraterrestrials?" A female voice asked over the giggling of her co-host. "Well, Kathy, I first realized in my youth the dangers that were posed to us. Few people realize exactly how vulnerable we a--"  
  
Just as quickly as Membrane turned the tuner on, he punched the OFF button, mumbling under his breath. "Damn morning talk shows…"  
  
The kitchen door slammed open for the third time. Gaz once again stood there, zombified, clutching her GameSlave. She turned to her father, who was still on his way to the door.   
  
"I'm going up to my room, dad." She said quietly.  
  
Membrane didn't respond until he caught up with her in the doorway. "I don't blame you. You look exhausted."  
  
"Look who's talking." She replied slowly.   
  
"Good night, Gaz."  
  
Gaz immediately went upstairs from the kitchen. She kept her gaze to the floor, and avoided looking into Dib's room. She dove onto her bed, and almost immediately fell into a restless sleep. The last words she heard were from the Professor, who was talking on his DataWatch downstairs. "I appreciate your sympathy, but that isn't needed. I just wanna know what it was that killed my son. It wasn't a virus… …You heard me; It was something else. With how fast it happened, I almost want to say that whatever it was, was DESIGNED to-- Right, right. I know, I have been working too hard. You can stop by tomorrow, I'll sign the papers, then you can have the body for examination. Just don't let me see what you do with it." Then she heard a cheerful beep, and something she had never heard before--her father crying.  
  
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"I'll be gone till about midnight. Tape Mysterious Mysteries for me, will you?" Dib asked, pulling a black shirt on over his head.   
  
"Why do you have to do this, Dib? It's not like he's a real big threat…"  
  
"If left unchecked, he will be, Gaz." He replied, slipping on some black leather gloves. "He's never gonna stop trying, and neither will I."  
  
"…That's stupid! Just wait it out. Eventually he'll mess up. Then you won't have to go after him. You're on his turf there. The odds are against you."   
  
"You just don't get it, Gaz." Dib mumbled, grabbing his camera and walking out the front door. "I don't think you ever will, either."  
  
Gaz had fallen asleep on the couch. She taped Dib's stupid paranormal show, like he asked, then sat and played her GameSlave till she couldn't hold it up anymore. When she woke up, it was nearly four in the morning. The entire house was dark, including the TV. So Dib did had come home…  
  
For some reason, that thought stirred a spark of dread in her. Maybe it was just the conversation they'd had before. Maybe she just felt bad about what she said to him. That was probably it. She moved off the couch and walked upstairs to her bedroom. When she passed Dib's door, she stopped. It was standing ajar, and the inside was dark. Once again dread rose in her. She sneered, because she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep without checking on him. She pushed open the door with a creak and looked inside. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she spotted Dib, curled up on his bed, trench coat and all. "Dib?" She whispered, walking in. As she approached him, the dark revealed burn marks on his trench coat and shirt, singed hair, and red marks on his skin. "Dib??" She said, louder. She tried to sit him up, but he continued to lay there, a whimper like that of a wounded animal emerging from his throat. She felt his hand. It was burning. He was running one hell of a fever. "Hang on, Dib. I'll call an ambulance!"  
  
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Gaz's eyes opened. Her room was pitch dark. Sure, it would've seemed just a bad dream, if it hadn't actually happened. No matter how she tried, she could not sleep, even though she was exhausted. She got up, grabbed her GameSlave, and started down towards the kitchen. Something made her stop at Dib's door. Masochism, she figured. She stared at the door, at the "UFO crossing" sign tacked to the outside. She'd bought that for him for his birthday, as a gag gift. She stood there, her thoughts swimming, and slowly pushed the door open.   
  
Gaz mindlessly sat down at Dib's computer, which was still running. The whirring noise coming from the laptop was no comfort to her. It seemed that it had outlasted it's owner, and now was content to continue running indefinitely. Smug little machine, she thought sourly as she started to close it down. Just before she hit OFF on the surge protector, an icon of a semi-automatic behind an explosive background caught her eye. "Crash Blast'em III" the icon read. "…I didn't know Dib was into first-person shooters." She mumbled. Damn. Now she really DID miss him. Curiosity took her over, as well as the need to hide in the zone and away from her feelings. Would one game hurt? As she launched the game and waited for it to load, she glanced down at the desk she was sitting at. It was covered in manila folders, printouts, and roughly-drawn sketches. She grabbed one of the folders, labeled "Irken Invasion" and opened it. It was filled with pages of incomprehensible printouts, sketches of a bizarre alphabet that looked like chicken scratch, literally, and diagrams and photos of Zim's house. Some of the pictures were familiar: The front yard, oversized lawn gnomes staring blankly into the camera. Front and side views of the house. Some weren't so familiar, however: Strange, circular metal chambers teeming with monitors, button-laden consoles and the same chicken scratch that was in the notes. At the very bottom of the folder, she found a sketch of Zim, front and side view. The black and white pencil sketch showed angular antennae sprouting from his head instead of hair, and his eyes were nothing more than fields of gray. "Basic Irken anatomy" was scrawled on the top margin.   
  
"Is this thing on?" The familiar voice drifting over the speakers caused Gaz to jump, and snap her attention back to the computer. Instead of the Crash Blast'em title screen, A video clip of Dib had been pulled up. The video file was pretty good quality, but the camera was crooked, causing his room to appear lopsided. Dib reached for the camera and he and the room straightened out. He took a couple steps backward. "Ahem. Uh, hi, Gaz." He waved sheepishly. "…Well, I guess that this wouldn't be the best time to ask if everything's alright. I knew the first day I saw Zim that it would either be him or me." He stared at the floor. "…If you 're seeing this, Gaz, then it must've been me."  
  
Gaz scowled. She couldn't take hearing this. She reached for the OFF switch again.   
  
"Don't turn this off, okay? I'm sorry I had to trick you with that fake game thing, but I have no choice. I have some important things I need to say to you." Gaz pulled back from the switch.  
  
"Gaz, if Zim really will get me, then the world as we know it, is doomed. I guess Ms. Bitters is right then, heh heh. They'll be no one left that knows who and what Zim really is. No one will be ready to fight back, because everyone will be too busy disbelieving. Dad doesn't believe me. The kids at Skool think I'm crazy. You're the only one who's even seen him besides me." He pointed at the camera. "You know what I'm talking about, Gaz." He turned and sat in the same task chair she was now sitting in. "If I'm gone, then… Gaz, you have to take up where I left off. As much as you hate this planet, I know there's something in you that doesn't want to see it taken over by a bunch of little green men with red bug eyes! Please, Gaz. Don't let him win. Don't let Zim win. The Swollen Eyeball Network will eventually call for me. They'll have missed my weekly update. If you tell them what happened and agree to give them as much information as possible, then I won't ask you for anything more. Maybe they'll send a replacement agent. Or maybe they'll just rip the little green freak's base out by the roots." He sighed. "I can only hope. God forbid you ever have to see this message, and I'm sorry if you just did… Very sorry." The screen went blank.  
  
Gaz stared at the blank screen, sighed in resignation, and put her head down on the desk. The funny thing about grief is there's a point where you cry, where you carry on, where you show you care, more for anyone else's benefit than your own. And then there's point where you realize exactly what you've lost. They aren't necessarily one and the same.  
  
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The sun shone through the single square window of Dib's room. The action figure perched on the sill cast a shadow across Gaz's face. She had fallen asleep there, in front of Dib's laptop. She stirred, and blinked awake, rubbing her eyes. Still half-asleep and dumbfounded, she looked around the room, wondering why she was there and expecting her brother to walk in any minute and accuse her of snooping. She regained her wits quickly, though. Hiding her head in her hands, she wished she could disappear, and go to another universe where she had talked her brother out of leaving the house that night. Where she had saved him, or at least let him know she cared. But her brother was dead, and there was nothing she could do about it now...  
  
The still running laptop blinked, and Gaz looked up at the screen. A weird-looking black messenger window had popped up. At the top of the window was the symbol for the Swollen Eyeball Network. Dib's "secret society" that he just wouldn't shut up about. Inside the window, someone named Agent Darkbootie was typing a greeting and asking why he hasn't responded to any of the posts. Sighing, Gaz began typing, saying that Dib won't be responding to much of anything anymore, and that this was his sister talking.  
  
"WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?" Flashed on the screen.  
  
"GOT SICK. DIED LAST NIGHT." She slowly typed. There was a pause before he replied.  
  
"I'M SORRY."  
Gaz glared at the screen. Why should HE care? He's probably never even seen her brother before.   
"WHAT KIND OF SICKNESS?" Flashed on the screen. Gaz scowled.  
  
"WHAT DO YOU CARE? I DON'T THINK ANYONE KNOWS WHAT IT WAS, ANYWAY. NOT EVEN MY DAD." There wasn't a response for a long time.  
  
"MAYBE THAT ALIEN KILLED HIM."  
  
Gaz stared at the screen. Zim? For some reason, it hadn't registered yet that he may be to blame. She had been too in shock to do much of anything, to have any kind of emotion. To have a perfect stranger spell it out was all Gaz needed to have the anger flood back into her. Dib left for Zim's house last Friday. The virus was engineered, her dad said. Zim had done it. Zim had killed him. Fresh tears began running, but they were tears of range. She haltingly began to type.  
  
"I HAVE TO GET HIM BACK. TELL ME WHAT I HAVE TO DO." Vengeance. That was what she wanted. Dib had tried to stop Zim over and over again in that bizarre game they played. But he had lost the game, and paid for it. It was her turn now, and she never lost... 


End file.
